


Princess Piss

by CannibalKats



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4020946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was thinking about Bethany Hawke as a warden, everyone talks about circle Bethany, and how she’s happier there but for me it’s always Warden Beth the princess piss in DAI sealed the deal for me.  The smiling sunshine Bethany, for me, is a show, it’s what the people around her needed, Carver, Hawke, Leandra.  Even Varric and Merril and Fenris, need her smile and positive attitude. </p><p>So I wrote this, to me it’s the first time Beth realizes that she is no longer needed to be sunshin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princess Piss

Bethany Hawke watches the wardens across the makeshift table. They chuckle harsh and humourless as they explain the process of labelling the bottle, _warden vintage_ they tell her.

“Keeps your weak summer wines from getting mixed up with proper drink,”the big one sneers.

                The tavern was full, but they’d pulled barrels and old chairs out under an awning for the party of wardens. The waitress sloshed a mug of Dwarven Ale down in front of the big man with the permanent sneer and a proper wine glass in front of her as if to illustrate his point.

                Bethany sighs, her face hurts from smiling, the fake smile she always wears. She hears Varric call her Sunshine while her _companions_ snicker and call her princess out of the side of their mouths. She sips the wine, and watches their faces. _You don’t have to pretend_ , she hears Carver’s voice now. _No one here needs the show._

                Her smile fades to a smirk, the sneering warden raises a questioning brow but continues on with his explanations. _She might be a princess mageling, but he’s not going to lose any men on this expedition because of it. Rather a raw recruit from the guard, least they know what to do in a fight, he’s got some healing trollop probably don’t know what end of a blade to hold._    He grunts orders and instructions to her between rants.

“Mostly,” he spits. “Just keep out of the way. Wouldn’t want to muss up your pretty face your first time out.”

                Bethany leans forward, a new smile plastered on her face. “Have you ever heard of the Pirate Queen Isabela?” She downs the rest of the wine in her glass and cocks her head.

                The grunting warden looks up, he makes a show of admiring the vision before him. “Maybe I have,” he snorts. “Maybe I’ve had the wench.”

                Bethany’s smile is sweet, it’s innocence and experience. She leans closer, her hands braced on the barrel table between them, she looks up through her lashes at the warden.

“Maybe she taught me a few things.”Her show has caught the interest of the rest of her party and she takes straps of the man’s chest plate in both hands and propellers herself upwards, smashing her broad forehead into his nose. She feels a few of his teeth break the skin before she lets go and he stumbles backwards.

“Andraste’s perky bottom,” she hears the tavern girl whisper.

“Bloody Hell,” the warden is cursing, spitting blood and teeth, but only two of their party of 10 have stepped up to help him.

Bethany Hawke lifts his pint of Dwarven Ale, she drinks the foul liquid, gulping and slurping, blood and beer mixing in her mouth. She belches to signal completion and shakes the empty tankard at the warden. “She taught me to drink, and she taught me not to take shit from an asshole.”

She sneers at the warden while their fellows take him away to deal with his broken nose, he spits a tooth at her as he passes. Sneering feels good, like a comfortable pair of shoes. Bethany Hawke writes Princess Piss on the nearest bottle of whiskey, and when they leave in the morning no one mentions having heard her heaving in the bushes that night.


End file.
